Season 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate, but if I did...

CHAPTER1

The light through her eyelids was startling and pink, and her nostrils twitched at the thick honeyed odor of incense. Carter's muscles felt slow and unresponsive as she struggled to shake off sleep. This is wrong, she thought hazily, I feel wrong. She rallied her body in a sudden attempt to sit up–bam! She hit her head against something hard. Ouch! She rubbed the back of her left hand against her smarting forehead–she could feel a knot rising–and opened her eyes. Something is very, very wrong, her eyes confirmed as her vision cleared. Just where in the heck am I, she wondered.

The room was large and spacious, with a stained glass ceiling of all things. Bright, shimmering fabrics hung from the walls and the furniture. She was sitting up on what appeared to be a bunk-bed, for lack of a better word. They were little more than wooden slabs stacked together but covered in ornate cushions and drapes–two walls were lined with them. Almost comfortable, Sam thought beneath her disorientation and rising panic.

Sam heard a low sound not unlike laughter–she wasn't alone. She counted quickly; there were nine other women in the room with her. Realizing that she was awake, one of the women was approaching her. This woman was dressed differently than the others who were all dressed in filmy, pastel garments that Sam would feel awkward in even in bed. She looked a bit older, too. Maybe she's in charge, Sam considered groggily.

The woman was beside her now and gingerly gestured at Sam's head. Yeah, it hurts like hell, Carter thought. The woman gently took Sam's elbow to help her rise. The woman was cooing to her in a soothing voice. Sam couldn't understand her, but it seemed apparent that she wanted to help. Sam allowed the woman to assist her as she rose tentatively to her feet, thankful when her head clouded with dizziness, her knees went weak, and a wave of nausea hit her that someone was supporting her. The woman's firm grip kept her steady until the moment passed. Drugs, Sam understood suddenly. I must have been drugged.

The woman slowly led her away from the bunks to some cushions near a low table in the center of the room. Sam sat cautiously, adjusting her appallingly light and sheer clothing. White, she acknowledged, puzzled. Where are my own things? For that matter, where am I?

The woman offered her a warm fragrant drink from a silver cup. Sam shook her head to indicate that she didn't want it saying, "No thank you," and trying to ignore the ringing in her ears. But, the woman was insistent, touching her own forehead lightly and making soothing sounds. Perhaps it will help the pain, Carter conceded, and she took a small sip–mmmm, it tasted like a light herbal tea.

The woman took a soft damp cloth and tenderly touched it to Carter's forehead while Sam drank. The area to which the salve was applied began to tingle slightly, but it felt ok. Good even, Sam admitted with a sigh. She relaxed a bit as the tea and the medicine eased her headache and aching muscles. Her brain whirled–something in the tea must counteract the sleeping drought.

Carter's memories were returning to her as her head cleared. Unless she had been moved, she was on M9X-163. Daniel had been eager (perhaps too tame a word) to visit the moon because photos taken by SG-7 on their initial survey suggested an Asgard influence. Language had been an issue for the survey team, but Daniel had been confident that he would be able to communicate sufficiently with the locals when once on the planet. Or, moon, rather, Carter corrected herself.

The village was approximately 4 kilometers from the Stargate, so it had been a nice easy walk from the gate into town. According to SG-7's report, the natives had been friendly and eager to make them welcome, and they certainly did not disappoint. SG-1 was surrounded upon their arrival, greeted warmly, and presented with gifts–mostly of the fruit and nut variety. Daniel had discovered that their language was much more difficult to understand than he had expected, but, after what seemed like an hour of gesturing and grunting, he informed the team that the villagers had invited them to feast that evening. The Colonel had been more than happy to accept.

Sam had spent the afternoon with Teal'c investigating a series of caves that SG-7 had spotted about 3 kilometers southwest of the village near a picturesque lake. The mineral surveys done by the initial team had shown trace amounts of naquada, but the caves had yielded no great discoveries. Meanwhile, Daniel had spent the afternoon translating the glyphs on the ruins of a once prominent structure near the edge of the village while Jack had sat in the sunshine and leisurely watched his back. When Sam and Teal'c had arrived back from their survey, Daniel shared what he had learned with enthusiasm. According to the pictographs and runes, the people on the moon–they called themselves the Yotuns–had overthrown the gray god, referred to in the glyphs as "the deceiver", several hundred years ago with the help of the benevolent ruler, Thrym.

"Don't you see?" Daniel was oozing with excitement, "This Thrym must have been an Asgard who helped the people of this world overthrow a Go'auld."

"Thrym, huh?" asked the Coronel. "Never heard of him."

"I wonder if Thrym left behind a point of contact for the people here like Freyr did on K'Tau," Sam had speculated.

"Well," Jack had responded merrily rubbing his palms together, "We can ask the locals at dinner. That is if Daniel can figure out how to talk with them."

Daniel accepted the rub good-naturedly and closed his notebook. And then, Sam remembered, SG-1 had proceeded to the village commons for the feast.

The food had been simple but plentiful, and the team had relaxed into the cool comfort of the evening, laughing and eating and listening to the indecipherable chatter of the locals. It had even seemed that Daniel was picking up a basic understanding of their language as the meal progressed and had begun to try and question the Yotuns about their history. But, Carter couldn't remember the end of the feast. She couldn't remember setting up camp or going to bed. Man, were we taken in, she thought, drugged and apparently separated. She shook her head sadly and noticed that it had stopped ringing completely.

Looking around in attempt to assess her situation again, she was struck by the opulence around her, much more common among the Go'auld than the Asgard. She rose and walked towards the room's only doorway. It appeared to open to some sort of garden–she could see a fountain through the frame. The matron with whom she'd been sitting tried to stop her, but Sam pulled away. She stepped through the doorway but froze right outside of it, stunned by the distinctive sound of a zat. Two guardsmen flanked the door. They appeared human, Carter didn't sense a Go'auld presence, but were armed with zats. Sam held up her hands.

The matron stepped in front of Sam and nudged her back into the round room leading her once again to the cushions. Sam allowed herself to be led by the woman, but she would accept no other food or drink from her. Wherever she was, she was a prisoner, she concluded. And where was the rest of her team?

A/N-- Previously posted at Gateworld